That Mahogany Chair
by BookEnchantress101
Summary: A little drabble I cooked up, fresh out of the oven. Just a one-shot. Takes place a week after the Curtis parents die, and when Darry has to soon sign the papers to become legal guardian. Not gonna tell you who's POV it is. Just read it.


**A Curtis family one-shot**

He tapped his foot anxiously on the floor, while he sat on the couch. Usually if he was waiting for his parents to come home from their excursion, he would jump to claim the warm, comfortable armchair in the left corner of the living room, ("the perfect spot" they called it) and fight Darry off to get the cushiony seat. The chair had fine majestic velvety leather as the cushions. The dark mahogany wood was curled at the hand rests and legs like dark magic. It was one of the few most expensive things they owned. Their father said he found it at a sale for half its price. It was still a lot, but he couldn't resist and bought it. And now the Curtis house wouldn't be complete without it.

Darry and their father would be seen sitting on the warm and enchanting armchair. Watching the football game or reading the newspaper. When they were little, they each in their own time would grab the cushion to help themselves up, learning how to stand. Their mother had sat there on Tuesday mornings, sowing. Making them scarves and hats for the winter, and they would huddle at her feet. Drinking hot cocoa, and watching old Christmas films. And it didn't matter how old they got. It was a tradition, and not even Darry could argue with that. Ponyboy would sit on the mahogany chair sideways and doodle on his notebook, murmuring to himself about how the hands were all wrong and bent, frowning when he think he got it wrong, and nodding in approval when it worked out alright.

That chair was the very definition of their home. It makes everyone- including himself feel warm and welcomed. (if that makes any sense) It had used to him at ease, just staring at it.

Not tonight. No, tonight he was anxious-no he was scared. He was worried, angry, upset, and tired. Oh, he was so tired. He wanted nothing more than to drop in his bed next to Ponyboy and sink into his mattress. Succumb to the dark arms of slumber, and leave his worries and retreat to a place of peace. Even if just for a few hours. He looks up to the clock that reads 3 o'clock. He would, he would, he wishes he just would- but he can't. His body won't let him.

"Where is he?" He mutters to himself. He takes a breath, and sneaks a peek at that chair.

No. No, he will not sit in it. It still smells so much like them. He couldn't. It would be wrong. He could still smell the hot cocoa at the feet, and the strong smell of freshly brewed coffee. The smell of wood shavings and work metal, and the soft vanilla lily perfume.

Sometime if he's listening hard enough he could hear the squeak of someone sitting or plunk of plopping down on the armchair. And the soft chuckle that rings like morning bells, or loud hearty laugh that lightens the atmosphere of the room. Then it disappears too soon, leaving the room ghost-silent, leaving him alone _again_.

Was he going crazy? He would bet he was, but Ponyboy would beg to differ if he were to ask. But then again why would he ask. It would be stupid and just weird. Probably if they have to think that they are crazy, they probably are crazy.

 _Goddamnit_. He was almost able to distract himself for a moment. From the silence.

He looks down at his foot that continues to tap. Never been able to stay still. He could just hear his mother scolding him to stop tapping his damn foot, that they have company. He has to act his best. Be a charming gentleman, and smile and be polite, even if it's to people he would rather hit with a shovel.

He was growing anxious by the millisecond.

What if the trunk's gone down? What if he's lost? What if he got hurt? What if he's in an accident. _Just like them?_

He felt himself start to panic. And he felt a panic attack starting rise in his chest, he took deep breaths, trying to cure the burning sensation flooding his chest. If he didn't stop soon it would only get worse. He takes in gulps of air for a time, ceasing the hyperventilation. He coughed a little. It had been a _long_ time since something like that had happened. Usually his parents or at least his mother would be there to help him through that. Usually Darry would call for his Ma or Pa to help. Usually someone would stand there beside him. But today was not a _usually_ day, was it?

He got up and turned on the tap in the kitchen. He splashes himself with cold water and grabbed a glass. He filled it up with cold water and downed the drink in one gulp. He gasped for some air, holding onto the edge, looking down at his reflection in the watery sink, as the water drained away with him.

"Soda?"

He whirls around and spots the thirteen year old, looking disheveled and bleary eyed. He would presume that Ponyboy had just gotten up, but still half asleep.

"Hey, Pony." He knelt down in front of the youngest and held his shoulders, "You alright? Did you have a nightmare?" He cursed himself. He shouldn't have left him alone for too long.

Ponyboy shakes his head, and rubs his eyes tiredly. The way he did that made him look so much younger than he really is, "Just heard something in the kitchen."

"Sorry to wake you."

"Where's Darry?"

He felt his heart quicken. Oh, God. What does he do now? He couldn't just tell the kid that Darry ain't here. That would scare him. He would lose faith in Darry, that's for sure. But he didn't want to lie. He couldn't lie to Ponyboy. Not really. His best chance is that Pony doesn't notice his hesitation. He groans internally knowing he's going to have to go for the latter.

"Me and him had a fight, and he's sleeping over at a friend's place."

Ponyboy frowned and cocked his head to the side, "You two fought?"

It wasn't surprising that he took that as a surprise. He and Darry rarely ever fought. They usually got each other well, and had each other's backs. But when they do fight, it gets ugly. So it isn't a shock to find that they are staying away from each other for a bit.

Ponyboy nodded, accepting his alibi.

The kid looked at him up and down, and the same disapproving crease that appears when he draws, showed on Pony's face. "Are you okay?"

He blinked surprised. Ponyboy may be young, but Pony is much more observant than he seems. He doesn't know why he's so surprised. He knows he looks like hell. No he looks way worse. It doesn't take a genius to know that he ain't feeling too hot. Pony's a smart kid, so he won't lie to him again. Ponyboy would see right through it anyway.

"Couldn't sleep. Just decided to get some water to drink." He said simply.

"You splashed some in your face." Ponyboy pointed out, "You sure that's it, Soda?"

He smiled at the auburn headed Greaser, "Yeah, Pony. Don't worry about lil' ole me. Head back upstairs, I'll be up in a minute." He curses himself for speaking so quickly.

Pony gave one last look, but nodded acceptingly. He thanked the Lord for no more questions as he watched the younger boy's figure retreat upstairs.

He sighed and plopped himself down somewhere in the living room. He let out a sigh in relief, and situated in his seat. He took a breath and froze. He was sure his face had gone stark white. He smelled the wood and the chocolate, and feels the warm comfy cushions. He jumped up and let out a silent scream. He held hand over his mouth to keep back the noise, and right at that moment the front door opened.

He screamed softly again for behind his palms, and he swears that his heart just leapt to his right side. He heard boots click of the porch and into the living room. Darry walked silently into the door, careful not to slam the door. It was useless though. He already heard and saw him, but he supposes it's not to wake up Ponyboy. He could only hope that Pony had fallen back asleep.

Darry walks right past him, grunting in greeting, not even sparing him a second glance.

He felt his eye tic. He had been sitting here all night-well morning-waiting and worrying when the hell he would be back. Hell no. He isn't gonna get off with a damn grunt.

"Darry?" He leaned against the doorway, watching as Darry grabs a glass of water and gulps the entire thing.

"Hmm?" Darry grunted, he filled it up again and downs it as quick as the first.

"Where've you been?" He asked innocently.

Darry took some bread from the pantry and just ate it plain. He shrugged, "Out."

 _Out?! That's all I'm gonna get?_ He takes a breath, "It's a quarter past three, Darry."

Darry doesn't look to concerned until he takes a good look at him, and his face showed concern. "Have you been up all this time, little buddy."

He simply nods.

Darry sighs, "You don't have to worry 'bout me. You should've just went to bed."

His head snapped up to look at the twenty year old, "What?"

"I said you ain't gotta keep yourself awake 'till three AM, Soda. It ain't good for you."

The blonde narrowed his eyes, "You can't just tell me that, after you've been gone since you left for _work_!" He whispered-yelled. His brown eyes turned a blazing amber , and he stepped forward in anger.

"You can't just tell me to not worry, and expect me to go to sleep! I've been sitting on the couch for the past _five hours, thirteen minutes, and thirty seven seconds_ waiting to see when you would get home! If you would even get home! I sat **_there_** ," he points painfully at the armchair, "-waiting! And you're telling me that I'm not supposed to be _fucking scared!_ " He silently screams.

"Okay! Okay, be quiet, Pony's asleep-"

He grins his teeth, "Ponyboy was just awake five minutes ago! I had to _lie_ to him, about where you were! I had to lie!" He screamed hoarsely in Darry's face. "Cause otherwise he'll get scared like me."

"Soda! Soda! Calm down!" Darry said quietly. Darry wrapped his large arms around his lean figure, "Stop crying."

He hadn't even realized crying when he felt the wet trails that went down his face. He sniffed up his snot and rubbed his eyes. He doesn't even know why he's crying, but all he knows is that he can't stop the tears. It's a real wonder how Pony hadn't woken up.

"I'm sorry, Soda. I'm sorry to scare you like that." Darry whispered to him soothingly as he gently rocked back and forth.

He whimpered in response.

After a few minutes, he regained his breathing, and slowly the tears came to an end.

"Darry?" He sniffed.

Darry ran his hands through his blonde hair, "Yeah?"

"Where did you go?"

Darry fidgeted, then he answered, "Buck's."

 _Buck's?_ He tried to keep the shock out of his voice when he asked the next question. "Are you drunk?"

"Yes." Darry answered without hesitation.

He knew the answer already. And he also knew that Darry was ashamed, though there's no reason to be.

Damnit, if he himself was any other guy, he would have gotten deadass drunk. If he was any other guy and had just figured out a week ago that his parents died in a car crash, and he had to quit working for college and come back to take care of his two little brothers- Well... He doesn't even know if he would've came back.

His eyes widened realizing something, "Did you drive here?!" He almost yelled, "Jesus, Darry! That's so stupid-"

"I walked, Soda. I ain't dumb." Darry said. He groaned a little and rubbed his head. He stands up and fills up a cup of water. He grabs to aspirin pills and hands them to Darry.

Darry nodded, but then he hesitated. "Soda, about Ponyboy-"

"I won't tell him." He said almost immediately, "Don't worry about it, Darry."

Darry nodded and downed the pills with the water. "Thanks." He muttered.

He shrugged.

Darry stood up shakily and stalked over to the doorway grimly. He stared at the living room. More specifically- that armchair.

"That chair, huh?" Darry said to him, hands stuffed in his pockets.

Sodapop nodded tearfully.

"I'm sorry, Sodapop."

Soda shook his head, "It's gotta get better, Darry."

"It will, Pepsi-Cola, I swear it."

"You ain't gonna leave us, Dar?" Soda's scared, brown eyes locked with the sympathetic, melted blue-green ice. He meant it as a question, but it came out more as a plea.

"Wild horses couldn't tear me away, little buddy."

 **In case you didn't get it. Soda's afraid fear was being left alone. Being left alone with Ponyboy and left without someone to care for him. The chair reminded him too much of his family, which is why he hated sitting on it. This takes place one week after the parents died. If it's still confusing, I'm sorry. You can PM me if you have any questions.**

 **Stay Gold,**

 **Jenn U.**


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